


even when the sun has died

by miuyi (rainiest)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-19 22:15:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5982562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainiest/pseuds/miuyi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>small town boys in a big, big world</p><p>alternatively:</p><p>yixing comes home for the summer, lu han angsts</p>
            </blockquote>





	even when the sun has died

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by my love-hate relationship with the little city on the sea that raised me (my soul is an endless void of beach angst \o/)
> 
> title from [this remix](http://soundcloud.com/starcadian/summer-in-the-city-starcadian)

Yixing comes back from the big city with a stack of summer reading half his height and a head of golden hair.

The second thing Luhan does when Yixing waddles off the bus, shaking stiffness from his legs, is run his fingers through the strands, asking, laughing, “The fuck is this, Zhang?"

The first is to pull Yixing into a one-armed hug, ignoring all the ways the fit of his body against Luhan's has changed, how he smells like exhaust and shampoo Luhan doesn't recognise.

“Felt like a change.” Yixing smiles, dimpled and achingly familiar. “You like it?”

“Of course not,” Luhan says, and Yixing laughs.

Luhan still doesn't, not even when he looks over his shoulder at Yixing wading toward him, and realises his hair is the exact shade of sunburnt sand. He's broader than he was last summer, and paler, but he smells like salt again when he stretches out on the sand beside Luhan.

“I forgot how much I fucking hate this place,” Yixing mumbles. Luhan knows he wouldn't be able to see his expression through the glare, so he doesn't try.

“I know."

“I mean it,” Yixing insists lazily, as though he didn't make a soft sound of protest when Luhan went to turn down Yixing’s street, as though the knot in his brow didn't ease as Luhan let the slope of the land draw them toward the beach.

“I know.” Luhan hates it too, just as much as Yixing does. Probably more.

“Luhan.” Something in Yixing’s voice reminds Luhan of how it feels to stand on the cliffs, to sense the emptiness of the air beneath him, to fall with both feet still on the ground. “Luhan, I… We--”

“Don't.” Luhan’s voice is soft but inevitable, summer sun on city-white skin. “Just-- don't. Please.”

A long time passes. Luhan wonders how long he'd have to lie out in the sun until it burned his flesh away, until it bleached his bones and turned them to dust, until he scattered away into the sand and became one with this place forever.

They should leave soon-- the sun is setting now, and something about summer nights, all heat and no light, makes Luhan prone to doing stupid things; like swimming around the cliffs to the next beach over and nearly drowning, or launching himself from the pier at high tide into an oncoming wave. Like pushing his best friend against the rock face at the base of the cliffs the night before he leaves for the city and kissing him.

Yixing hums as they drive back, a song Luhan doesn't recognise. His hand twitches on the steering wheel and for one brave, dizzying moment, Luhan imagines turning the car around and driving and driving and driving. Imagines pulling over and, in the shy purple dusk, burying his face in Yixing's shoulder and asking him to stay forever.

The moment passes. Yixing is still humming, and Luhan's hands steady on the steering wheel as he takes them home.


End file.
